


Welcome to the Rhythm of the Night

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexuality, F/M, Friends With Benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 12:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6195286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke tells Bellamy she's never actually had sex, but she'd like to. With him, specifically. And what kind of friend would he be if he said no, really?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to the Rhythm of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> From an anon prompt on tumblr! "either bellamy or clarke (doesnt really matter each one) has never had sex, and so they ask the other to just have sex with them 2 get it over with, and obvs its dope so they start having sex with other ppl but it's never as good as the 1st time and they cant figure out why (SPOILER ITS BC THEYRE IN LOVE)" Which I modified a bit but I think it still gets the point across.
> 
> I'd apologize for the title, but I think we all know I'm not really sorry.

"When did you lose your virginity?"

By this point in their friendship, Bellamy's pretty used to Clarke asking him weird questions when she's doing her homework; she's one of those people who can't concentrate for very long for one thing, and her chosen distraction is always sharing whatever random thoughts occur to her based on her reading.

She's on _The Scarlet Letter_ , so he guesses this one makes sense, after a fashion.

"Junior year of high school."

"Really?"

"Assuming we're talking the standard, hetero-centric penis-in-vagina definition of virginity, yeah. Why, what were you expecting?"

"I don't know. What about for the non-hetero-centric versions?"

He considers it, trying to remember all the dates. "First handjob the summer before junior year. First blowjob was about a week before we went all the way, which was also the first time I got a girl off. First time I gave a guy a handjob was freshmen year, and then I gave him a blowjob the same night, which is as far as I've gone with guys."

"Do you want to go farther?"

"I don't know. Probably not unless I had an actual boyfriend, which I never have." His paper is looking less and less like real words, so he closes his laptop and flops down on his bed next to her. She always reads in his room, and he always ends up on his bed with her, because he doesn't know how to have Clarke Griffin in his bed and not cuddle with her. Maybe he'll figure it out someday, but he's not particularly interested in doing it. He likes cuddling. "What about you?" he asks.

She shifts. "I haven't."

It's not something Bellamy has ever put much thought into. He certainly can't think of any specific times he would have thought she was getting laid, but--he just sort of broadly figured she would have once or twice. He can't imagine she'd have _trouble_ , if she wanted to. But maybe she doesn't. Or just hasn't yet.

"Cool," he says, and she snorts.

"Good effort."

"I meant it. It's up to you."

She huffs and closes her book, putting her head on his stomach. "It's not, though. Everyone has so many fucking _opinions_. Sometimes I feel like there was one specific day where it would have been, like--yeah, this is it. This is the single day when you could have lost your virginity and no one would say you were a slut or a prude or anything."

Bellamy pets her. "I think it's different for guys. I think no matter how early you lose it, everyone thinks you're cool." He pauses. "But yeah I guess there is a point where if you haven't, you're a loser."

"Which is bullshit the other way."

"Is that really why you, uh--haven't?" he asks, careful.

"No, not really." She closes her eyes. "I told you about Finn, right?"

"The one who was also dating Raven?"

"Yup. I was getting to thinking I wanted to try it with him, and then I found out about his girlfriend, so that didn't work. And then there was Lexa, but she transferred before we got to that stage of the relationship."

Bellamy wets his lips, feeling kind of like a jerk for being curious, but--she _did_ bring it up. "How much of a virgin are we talking here? Have you, uh--it it just--"

"I have never brought another person to orgasm, nor has anyone else done so for me," she says, grave, and Bellamy nearly chokes. "Shut up!" she says, with just enough tenseness to make him guilty.

"Sorry," he says. He strokes her hair again. "I'm not judging, I promise. That was a cute way to put it. But it's not a big deal. It's fun, so whenever you're ready, you should definitely try it. Were you, uh--have you been thinking about it? Are you dating someone or something?"

"No, but--it just feels like it gets to be a bigger thing every year, you know? Like the longer it goes, the more I have to justify myself."

"Anyone who makes you justify why you haven't had sex yet isn't someone you want to have sex with."

Clarke smiles. "This is what you tell your little sister to keep her from having sex, isn't it?" she teases.

"Basically. But that's because it's true. Just do it when you're ready."

"I think I am."

"Cool. You should."

"Bellamy."

"What?"

She pokes his cheek. "I need someone to do it with."

"Yeah, uh, you know you're a hot blonde, right? You're not going to have any trouble finding sexual partners. Go to a party and say you want to get laid. Boom, done."

"Or we could just have sex."

Somehow, he doesn't choke this time, but it's mostly because his entire body has frozen solid. "What?"

She shifts a little, cheeks going pink. "I assume you're good at it. And I _am_ a hot blonde."

"Yeah, you are, but--are you sure?" he finally asks, because that's the question that matters, right? It's her call. Not that he couldn't say no, but if she wanted him, he definitely wouldn't. He's a good, selfless friend. Who has maybe thought about her naked. Once or twice. Not on purpose, just--well, they met his sophomore year, her freshmen, at an LGBT mixer, and he started flirting with her because she was cute and they were both wearing bi pins. But she had a girlfriend, which she told him as soon as she realized he was flirting, but by that point they were having a really good discussion about their favorite film adaptations of novels, so there wasn't any reason to stop. And then they were friends, easily, naturally, effortlessly. Bellamy's comfortable with Clarke like he isn't with anyone else, so it makes sense, honestly, that she'd ask him. Now that he thinks about it, he'd be offended if she'd gone to someone else with this.

Her smile is fond. "That's your question?"

"Yeah. It's your call."

She pushes off his lap, looking him up and down. He tries not to squirm or flush. "You'd just--do it?"

"I like sex. I like you." He leans in, smiling. "I bet it would be fun. Just let me know. Anytime you want to--" 

She closes the distance between them, pressing her mouth against his, too firm and too decisive, like she's convincing herself as much as him. But this is what she wants, so he slides his hand up to cup her chin, gentling the kiss, reassuring her without words that it's fine, that they're good.

He knows she's done this part before, and once the tension drains out of her, she's great at it. He pulls her into his lap and keeps kissing her, long and slow, making out like it's the main event. She slides her arms around his neck, pressing close, and he thinks about trying to move so she won't feel his dick as it starts to get interested in the proceedings, but--she does seem to want it involved, so he rolls his hips, groans when she pushes back against him.

"Okay," he says, kissing her neck. "I guess you're sure."

"Bite the bullet, right?"

"Clarke."

She pulls him back up so he can look at her. "I'm sure, okay? I've been thinking about it."

"Yeah?" He rubs his thumb against her hip. "Did something happen?"

"Do you really want to talk about this right now?" she asks, grinding down against him again. "Seriously, I'm sure, I'll tell you later, but I was really enjoying that."

He laughs, tugs her back in for another messy kiss. "Yeah, okay. Tell me after."

It's takes a little getting used to, kissing Clarke. He keeps getting stuck on the fact that it's _her_ in his lap, his best friend, the person he probably knows best in the world. It feels like that should make it less strange, because they've done so much together, this almost feels like a natural next step. But every time he remembers it, his heart flips over.

He gets to be the first person Clarke ever has sex with.

"What did you want to do?" he asks, when they finally come up for air. She's on her back on his bed, minus her shirt, and she's gotten him down to just his boxers.

"Hm?"

"What level of losing your virginity are you looking for?" 

"Oh." She laughs, soft. "Can I suck your dick?"

He groans. "Fuck, if you want to, I'm not going to stop you."

"I figure I can do that first, and then you can get me off with your mouth or your hands or whatever, and then after that you'll be good to go again and you can fuck me?"

Bellamy has to laugh, leans in to kiss her again. "You came up with a _sex itinerary_."

"And if I hadn't, we wouldn't have a plan." She rolls them over, pushes him onto his back. "You've given and received more blowjobs than I have. Any tips?"

"Don't use your teeth, that's advanced technique," he says. "Don't stress. It's your first time interacting with a dick?"

"Yeah."

"So just relax and have fun. If you don't want to swallow, don't. If I jerk my hips or something, just stop and tell me I'm an asshole. Honesty is the best policy."

She laughs. "This is the least sexy sex talk I've ever heard."

"Because it has so much competition," he teases. He gropes her ass for good measure. "Your mouth is going to be on my dick, Clarke. I promise I'm gonna have a good time."

"That helps." She pecks him on the mouth and then pulls down his boxers, taking a second to just stare. "Fuck. I should have started smaller."

"My bad." He wets his lips, shifting a little as her eyes on him get him harder. "You want to stop?"

"Hell no," she says, on a hot breath, and then she wraps her fingers around him, tentative, testing the feel of his dick in her hand. He drops his head back on the pillow. Handjobs don't usually do that much for him, but--Clarke has great hands. "Oh, good, your standards are low."

"Maybe you're just a natural."

And, apparently, she is. It's not like her technique is perfect, but she's curious and enthusiastic, and they've always been good at figuring each other out. He tangles his hand in her hair, making her moan, and even though he goes nonverbal pretty fast, because, god, Clarke's fucking _mouth_ , he can still guide her with a quick tug of her hair. It's sloppy and wet and so fucking perfect he can't even quite comprehend it; he's pretty sure he's gotten better blowjobs in his life, in terms of skill, but nothing has ever felt so _good_.

He manages to get his voice back enough to say, "Hey, if you don't want to swallow--"

She pauses, pulls back. "What's the downside?"

"Jesus," he manages, with a shaky laugh. "You should have asked me sooner. I don't know, there's all this jizz in your mouth? I like swallowing, but it's your call. Just do _something_ , fuck."

"Swallow," she decides, and leans back in, swirling her tongue around the head of his dick, and he's gone in about ten seconds. She splutters a little, jerks back even though she was ready, gets come on her chin and mouth. "Wow."

"I tried to warn you," he says, fumbling for tissues.

"What, you don't lick it off my face?"

"Would that actually be hot for you? I can, but it sounds awkward."

Clarke laughs, accepts the tissues and wipes her face off. Bellamy flops back on the bed, grinning in the afterglow. "That was okay?" she asks, snuggling into his side.

He kisses her, warm and firm. "That was fucking great. Seriously, Clarke. Awesome." He rolls into her, deepening the kiss, sliding his hand under her bra to squeeze her breast. "So, this is the part where I get you off until I'm ready to fuck you, right?"

"Please," she says, squirming to get her bra off. Her breasts are just as perfect as he knew they would be, and he groans, leaning in to give them the attention they deserve.

"Please tell me someone's at least done this."

"Fuck. Just hands, no mouths."

"Lucky me." He presses a kiss to her nipple and then sucks it, hard. "God, you know you're beautiful, right? You're unreal."

She lets out this surprised little breath, squirms a little. "You don't have to sweet-talk me. We're already having sex."

"It's your first time. It's romantic. And, god, you are, okay? Seriously, Clarke."

"You too," she says, sliding her hand into his hair. "I really want you to eat me out. Oral sex is basically my number-one fantasy."

"Yeah?"

"It's gender-neutral. No matter who I'm thinking about, they can go down on me." She rubs up against his thigh, deliberate, and he fumbles for the button of her jeans, pushing them off with her underwear. He rubs her clit, firm and slow, and she moans in a way that makes him think it's not going to be hard for him to get it up again. "You have really fucking nice hands."

"Thanks." He swipes his fingers inside her, just enough to get them slick--she's _so_ fucking wet already--so he can work her clit again.

"Bellamy--"

"Sorry, I'll go down on you soon," he says, grinning. "I promise."

"You're messing up my sex it--" She gasps as he slides his fingers in her again, all the way this time, curling up to stroke her. "Oh, fuck."

"I heard you like my hands," he teases. He presses a quick kiss to her lips and then slides down, sucking her clit into his mouth. The noises she's making are the best thing he's ever heard, little moans and gasps, like she's trying to be quiet but it's so good she _can't_. 

He gets her off twice before she hauls him up and kisses him, wet and deep, no hesitation about tasting herself in his mouth. 

"I was having fun," he protests against her mouth.

"Can you fuck me yet? I want your dick in me."

"Jesus, if I couldn't before, that would do it." He nuzzles her neck. "Let me go so I can get a condom."

She watches him as he rifles through his drawer, finds a condom and rolls it on carefully. The heat in her eyes is unmistakable, and it might be the best thing that's ever happened to him. Clarke Griffin is desperate for him to fuck her.

He slides on the condom and grabs some lube to slick himself a little. She's wet, but--it's her first time. He's going to make it as amazing as possible.

"Ready?" he murmurs, leaning in to brush his mouth against hers.

"Please," she says, wrapping her arms around his neck, and she makes a soft noise as he slides in.

"Okay?" he asks, and she pushes up against him, getting him in deeper. He laughs, soft, and follows her lead, sinking all the way in. She's tight and hot and perfect, and he has to take a minute just to catch his breath. "Okay."

"Fuck," she says, laughing softly, and she tugs him in for a kiss as he starts to move. They find the groove of it almost immediately, so much sooner than he usually does, and he gets his fingers on her clit again. There's no way he's coming before she does. She trusted him with this, and he's going to do it right.

She's begging him in no time, this endless mantra of _Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy_ , and he wishes he was recording it, because he's not sure anything else in his life has ever sounded so good. When she comes apart around him, that's it, and he loses it within seconds, thrusting into her orgasm, desperate and hot.

"Wow," she manages, when he slumps onto her.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Definitely worth the wait."

He pecks her on the mouth and slides out, getting the condom off and into the trash. "Oh good, it would suck if I screwed that up."

She curls around him, and he's strangely relieved that she's settling in instead of taking off. He doesn't want to let her go yet.

"It was perfect," she says, kissing his collarbone. 

"Yeah," he agrees. He tugs up the covers around them. "I thought so too."

He's already half-asleep when she murmurs, "You still need to know, or are your morals all set?"

He trails his hand up her spine, smiling when she shivers and snuggles closer, all tangled up in him. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," he says.

"Why I wanted to do this."

"Oh, yeah. Tell me."

"Nothing special. It's honestly stupid."

"Awesome, I love that. I can make fun of you."

"Asshole," she says, shoving his chest gently. He has the stupid urge to catch her hand, kiss her fingers. He always feels pretty rosy after a good orgasm, but this is a lot even for him. "I was playing Never Have I Ever with my dorm and I was actually just--drinking on stuff I haven't done because I was embarrassed. And it felt so stupid, you know? I wasn't waiting for anything, except someone I liked enough to have sex with. But when I thought about it, I already had someone."

His heart stops for half a second. "Me?"

She snuggles in closer, and he lets himself hold on. "I knew you'd make it good. And take care of me. Which you did. And I knew I'd never regret it. Which I won't."

"Good. I'm, uh--glad I could help."

She props her chin on his chest to look at him. "I hope you won't either."

"Yeah, I'm not worried." He tugs her up so he can give her another kiss, warm and fond, reassuring. "Glad I could help."

She curls back into him when they pull apart, and he wraps his arm around her. It feels like maybe he should send her home, like this is not a situation where she should sleep over. But she's crashed in his bed before, plenty of times. The only difference is they're naked.

"Thanks," she murmurs, soft, bleary.

"Trust me, the pleasure was all mine," he teases, and kisses her hair. "Night, Clarke."

*

Casual sex isn't a new thing for Bellamy. He hasn't done it that much recently, and he's never done it with anyone he's as close to as he is to Clarke, but he's not worried about screwing things up. They're friends, and everyone was clear about their expectations. Clarke wanted to lose her virginity, and he wanted to help. The mission was very thoroughly accomplished, and everyone had a good time. It's the kind of thing that should cement a friendship, not destroy one.

And he's right. They get breakfast the next morning, and she's back on his bed with her homework that night, the same as always. He has some knowledge he didn't have before, but not in a bad way. He already sometimes thought about her naked; now the image is more accurate.

"It's cool if I think about you when I jerk off sometimes, right?" he asks her, three days later.

"You didn't already?" she asks, without looking up.

"No, I did," he admits. "Is it weird that it feels creepier now?"

"Kind of. But I thought so too, so it's not just you."

"Cool," he says, and that's it. Awkwardness over. Still best friends.

It's the awkwardness with other people he's not expecting. None of their friends know, although he's sure if they did, they'd have a lot to say about it. But since they don't, there's no awkwardness there.

The awkwardness comes two weeks later, when he's making out with a hot guy at a party, and he just can't get into it. It's not bad, but the guy is--big and muscular and stubbly, exactly his type for guys, and he's still not feeling it at all. He makes excuses, obviously disappointing his partner, and goes back to Miller and Monty with a scowl.

"Why are you guys gay?"

"Is this a philosophical question?" Monty asks. "What's the sound of one hand clapping?"

"I need a bi lifeline."

"So find Clarke."

"She's busy," he says. She's also found someone to make out with, a pretty blonde girl, and he isn't going to threaten that. He always supports Clarke getting laid. Or just making out, if she's not ready for sex with other people yet.

"So, what's the bi crisis?" Miller asks. 

"I think I'm not in the mood for guys. Is that normal?"

"Yeah, that's definitely not a good question for us," Monty says. "I was wondering why you ditched Lincoln."

"I wasn't feeling it."

"I'm resisting the urge to make a dick joke right now," says Miller.

"Thanks. That's about the level of support I expect."

"Just find a girl?" Monty suggests. "If you still want to hook up."

"Or a guy, to see if it was just _that_ guy."

"Ooh, yeah. You should make a chart. Make out with people until you figure out what you're looking for."

He doesn't actually make a chart, but he does keep having the problem. He's not even sure why he's stressing about it, honestly; it's been a while since he was particularly invested in hookups, but it bugs him that they're not working out for him. And Clarke seems to have gone into overdrive with her own romantic life, like her virginity was all that was keeping her out of the exciting world of party sex. Which is, of course, her call, but--well, she was the one he'd hang out with at parties, so if she's not around, he has so much less to do.

And, again there's some academic curiosity, because--his sex life has always been pretty good, and he's not sure why it's suddenly _weird_. Not that he's had any complaints, or inability to perform or anything, but it's just not that fun. And it's not gender-based, either; hooking up with girls wasn't really an improvement.

So Clarke seems like the most logical person to talk to, after another month of confusion and unsatisfying orgasms. They're on his bed, as usual, both reading, and he sees a hickey on her shoulder, which is what reminds him.

He nudges his foot against hers. "How's casual sex?"

"Huh?"

"You've been hooking up. How's it going?"

"Oh." She makes a face. "Fine?"

He snorts. "Wow. Believable."

"I haven't actually gotten all the way to the hooking up point that much," she admits, and he feels some strange lurch in his chest. He thinks it's a good feeling. "I don't know." She huffs. "It's fine, just--not quite there."

He laughs. "Yeah?"

"What?"

"Nothing, just--it's kind of funny to hear you say it. I've been feeling like that, but I have a lot more to compare it to."

"Maybe you're just fantastic in bed," she says, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I definitely am. But you must be too."

"Based on what?" she asks, sounding amused.

"Like I said, I'm not doing so well recently either. The sex is fine, but--yeah. Not quite there. So if I ruined you, you must have ruined me too."

"Probably just beginner's luck." There's a careful kind of casualness in her tone, and Bellamy lets his arm slide behind her and under her shirt, fingers stroking her side a little.

"You want to see?" he asks, before he can remind himself of all the reasons they shouldn't. Reasons that definitely exist. 

But Clarke takes his book out of his hands and climbs into his lap, kissing him long and deep and everything he's been wanting for the last couple months. This is how it's supposed to be, what he couldn't find.

"Yeah," she murmurs, pushing her hands under his shirt, trailing up his stomach. "Yeah, I do."

*

They have sex again in the morning, and then they go to breakfast and argue about whether or not NCIS has been canceled yet, because they're both too lazy to just check on their phones. She steals his shitty bacon, even though they're at a dining hall and it's _free_ , and he tells her she's an asshole.

On Friday, he makes out with a girl for about five minutes before he gives up, finds Clarke, and takes her home with him. He eats her out and she sucks his dick, and then they just make out until they fall asleep. In less than two weeks, they've both stopped looking for hookups at parties and are back to their status quo, hanging out with Monty, Miller, and Raven, shooting the shit, the same as they were before, except that when they leave, they go back to Bellamy's room and fuck each other's brains out.

It is awesome, and he's never been so happy.

And then Raven says, "Oh, hey, my friend Gina wants your number."

"For what?" he asks, absent. He's reading; he gets in a zone. "Also, you have my number, you can just give it to people. I assume you won't give it to serial killers. And if a serial killer wants to kill me, I assume they don't need my number."

"This is really your first guess?" Clarke asks. "When a girl wants your number?"

Her voice is a little off, and he frowns. "Wait, why shouldn't Raven give out my number?"

"No reason," says Clarke, and picks up her books. "I've got class."

It's true, but it's still weird, and he watches her go with a frown. "Uh--yeah, you can give her my number? I think I need to talk to Clarke."

"Pretty sure I'd be a dick," she says, watching Clarke's retreating back. "And you've got that covered. But if you still want to go out with her after whatever happened there--"

It's at that point that Bellamy's brain catches up with why Raven would be asking if she can give someone his number, and he slaps his face. "Fuck. No, don't. I'm going to--"

"Clearly. What the fuck, seriously?"

"I'm an idiot," he says, shoving his books into his bag. "Details to follow."

He catches Clarke on the stairs, because she always takes the old fire exit route when she's going to class because there's less traffic, and he knows this about her because she's _Clarke_ , and he loves her, and he's sleeping with her, and of course he doesn't want another girl's number. It never even occurred to him that anyone would try to set him up, which--doesn't make sense, given no one knows he and Clarke are fucking, and he didn't even realize that he was--

God.

She's sitting on the landing between the first and second floors, hugging her knees, and he sits down next to her.

"Would you believe it never crossed my mind that she wanted my number for dating purposes?" he asks. "Because, seriously. It really didn't."

"You can date her if you want."

"I don't. Why do you think it never crossed my mind?" He glances at her, but she's still not looking at him. "You're, uh--seriously, you basically ruined me. You're my best friend, you're smart and funny and perfect and beautiful, I'm having the best sex of my life, and I love you. I'm sure Raven's friend is cool, but--you're it for me."

Clarke blinks at him. "Since when?"

"Uh. Either five minutes ago when you left or, like, a year and a half ago when I met you at that party. Depending on if you mean when I noticed or when it started." He wets his lips. "Sorry."

She bites back on her smile, and the tension drops off his shoulders. "I just noticed too, if it helps."

He shifts a little closer. "Yeah?"

"I couldn't believe you were just going to--"

"I wasn't."

"I know, but--if someone had asked me I would have said it was fine. I would have thought I meant it." She drops her head onto his shoulder. "Please don't date Raven's friend."

"You're Raven's friend," he says. He laces their fingers together. "Clarke. Seriously. There's--I couldn't even sleep with anyone, after you. You're it."

"You're still the only guy I've had full hetero-centric sex with," she says, fond.

"Full hetero-centric sex is forever." He kisses her hair. "You have class, right?"

"I think I can miss class for over-dramatic love confessions once, right?" she says, wrapping her arms around him. "That's allowed. It's in the by-laws."

"Yeah, but you didn't confess anything," he teases.

"I love you too," she says, no hesitation, and it's actually the best moment of his entire life. Not that the sex isn't great, but--

He gets _Clarke_. Nothing's going to beat that.


End file.
